


Maybe Murderer

by Reioka



Series: Reioka's Tumblr Prompts [14]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: Tony's pretty sure his next door neighbor is a serial killer. This is a problem. Until it isn't.





	Maybe Murderer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from my Tumblr. The prompt was "winteriron neighbours au bucky is 28 or 29 and tony is 24 or 25, where bucky and tony live next to each other and tony is scared of him. bucky is always grumpy, angry, glaring at everyone. tony thinks bucky is a serial killer. one day he just blurts it out and bucky is very offended. that's how they start talking. later when they start dating steve still can't get over the fact that tony had thought that bucky was an assassin. he still laughs at them because of that. happy ending." This was supposed to be a humor-fest but I added some angst in it fml.
> 
> Also Resting Bitch Face/Bucky will always be one of my top pairings lmao.

Maybe Murderer

 

Tony was pretty sure his neighbor was a serial killer.

 

Like, he’d done the proper thing his mother had said to do, introduce himself to his new neighbors (he had a standing offer to have coffee with Bruce anytime), but when he’d knocked on the door of 4D, a man had answered looking ready to commit murder. There had been bags under his eyes and his eyes were red and his hair was a mess. He’d grunted out a terse ‘the fuck do you want’ and Tony had been able to do nothing but squeak. And then the door had been slammed shut in his face.

 

Which, you know, might have been a little rude; no one looked good first thing in the morning and Tony had clearly blind-sided him. But the guy hadn’t had to slam the door in his face. He had planned on just nicknaming him ‘Rudy McTrudy’ and moving on with his life.

 

Except sometimes Rudy McTrudy came home late at night clutching his left hand with a towel that  _was stained with blood._

 

Tony nicknamed him ‘Murder Guy’ instead.

 

“Anyway if you find my body it’s because Murder Guy has lived up to his name and has murdered me,” Tony finished, packing his duffle bag.

_“Dear,”_  Maria said, half amused and half scolding.  _“You neighbor is not going to murder you.”_

 

Tony wasn’t nearly as sure. “How do you know?”

_“Because if he does he will have **me**  do deal with.”_

 

“Aw,” Tony said. “Thanks, Mom. Also thanks for sending a pizza the other day. Rhodey and I were too tired by the time I got all my stuff moved.”

_“You could have just let me hire a moving service but nooo, you had to insist on moving like a normal person.”_  Maria laughed.  _“Well, at least you had a good experience, it sounds like.”_

 

Tony smiled. “Yeah, we got my TV set up first so we ate pizza, drank beer, and watched  _Real Housewives of Atlanta._ ”

_“Bizarre,”_  Maria said, disappointed.  _“You could at least watch the_ New Jersey _version.”_

 

“Yuck, New Jersey.” Tony began wriggling into his sneakers. “Well, I gotta get going if I don’t wanna be late to the gym. I just wanted to let you know that I’d met my neighbors.”

_“Thank you, dear,”_  Maria said.  _“Have fun pole dancing.”_

 

Tony tilted his head. “Hey, what did Dad say when he saw that article about me pole dancing, by the way?”

_“He said that it’s a very lucrative career but he would prefer you sticking to engineering.”_  Maria snorted to herself.  _“Honestly, if I weren’t so old, I’d join you. It sounds fun.”_

 

“It is! And I get to ogle the other gym goers there too!”

_“Dear, don’t make me make your father jealous,”_  Maria ordered sternly.  _“He found another gray hair this morning and is having a crisis.”_

 

“Man, if I had someone who loved me as much as you do, I wouldn’t worry about anything ever again,” Tony admitted.

_“Don’t worry, darling, you’ll find someone soon!”_  Maria cooed.  _“Have fun!”_

 

“Thanks, Mom,” Tony said, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. “Bye.” He opened his door a crack and peered into the hall. It looked like Murder Guy was still out.

 

Tony stepped outside and locked up, headed for the elevator. The last time he’d run into Murder Guy, he’d gotten the evil-eye like nobody’s business. Tony still said ‘hi’ whenever he saw him, but only because his mother had drilled manners into his head. He only ever got a grunt back in response. Well, one time Murder Guy had said ‘hi’ back, but he’d mostly looked confused at the time.

 

Tony hit the down button for the elevator and whistled the tune to ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,’ rocking back on his heels. Maybe, if he got out of class on time, he could swing by the deli before it got swamped with people on their lunches. He could only hope that Greer didn’t get too hung up on everyone’s form again. Not everyone had been a tiger in their past lives like she had. Tony was pretty sure she had an extra vertebra too—

 

Tony squeaked as the elevator doors slid open and suddenly he was face-to-face with Murder Guy. “Hi!”

 

Murder Guy scowled at him, muscle in his jaw ticking, before he said, “Hi.”

 

“I—” Tony squeaked. “I’ll take the stairs!” He turned and dashed for the stairs before Murder Guy could do something. Like strangle him.

 

.-.-.-.

 

‘I don’t believe it,’ Pepper had told him.

 

So there Tony was, clutching his phone to his chest and waiting by the door. Murder Guy usually came home around eleven at night, midnight at the latest, and Tony was a night owl even when he wasn’t trying to take creepy pictures.

 

The hallway was too bright and the sound of the elevator too cheerful for when Murder Guy arrived. He still had the dark circles under his eyes, and still looked angry. He was clutching a towel to his left hand with his right. The towel was already covered with rusty brown stains, and there was another patch of red growing on it as Tony watched. Tony lifted his phone and took a picture.

 

As cheerfully lit as the hallway was, it apparently wasn’t enough. His phone’s flash went off.

Murder Guy whipped around. “What was that?!”

 

Oooh shit. “Uh—I—uh—” He needed a lie immediately oh God. “M-my friend didn’t believe me when I said you were hotter than the sun!”

 

…Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 

Murder Guy’s brows furrowed together and his mouth dropped open a little bit. It looked like he didn’t know what to say, and eventually he just shrugged and stomped through his door.

Tony let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, shutting his own door quickly and sliding down it to sit on the floor. He quickly texted the picture to Pepper, along with ‘I think I just actually gave him a reason to kill me???’

 

A minute later he got a response, and he decided he was going to fire her.  _Lol_ , the text said.

 

.-.-.-.

 

“Is the guy in 4D a serial killer?”

 

Bruce paused with his tea halfway to his mouth. “…Why would you ask me that?”

 

“Oh my God he is isn’t he,” Tony said, clutching his backpack. “Oh my god are you his accomplice?!”

 

“No!” Bruce exclaimed, appalled. “And no, he’s not a serial killer!”

 

“But do you know that for sure?” Tony asked him seriously. “Can you say for certain that he is  _not_  a serial killer?”

 

Bruce stared at him for a moment. “…I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s not a serial killer.”

 

“That’s one percent unaccounted for, Bruce!” Tony exclaimed, nearly throwing his bag as he flailed. “And knowing my luck, it’s gonna  _be_  that one percent!”

 

Bruce frowned. “I wasn’t aware you had such poor luck, Tony.”

 

“I mean, not lately, but that just means I’m due!”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes before looking at him again judgmentally. “He’s not a serial killer, Tony.”

 

“He’s got a murder face!”

 

“Well you’ve got a very murderable face and no one’s killed you yet. Just because he’s got a murder face doesn’t mean he’s going to kill you.”

 

“I’ll remember this when he slits my throat,” Tony told him seriously.

 

“He’s not a serial killer!” Bruce exclaimed. “Oh my God, Tony!”

 

.-.-.-.

 

“There have been several unsolved murders over the past three months.”

 

Phil stared back at him impassively. “Your neighbor isn’t a serial killer.”

 

“I’m just saying!” Tony began.

 

“You live in New York. There are always going to be unsolved murders.”

 

“But-!”

 

“He’s not a serial killer.”

 

“You can’t know-!”

 

Phil raised an eyebrow at him blandly. “I know because you’re still alive.”

 

Tony clutched his chest and let out an offended squawk. “I’m going to tell Pepper you said that!”

 

“Also tell her that I look forward to going to the theater this weekend,” Phil said, uncaring.

 

“When I die, I hope you feel bad,” Told him seriously.

 

Phil looked down at his laptop and sighed. “Would it make you feel better if I did?”

 

“…Well it would make me leave you alone if you said yes.”

 

“ _Yes,_  I would feel bad.” Phil rolled his eyes. “And I’m only lying slightly, for what that’s worth.”

 

Tony beamed at him. “Aw, Agent, I knew you cared!”

 

Phil stared at him impassively. “I hope you’re his next victim.”

 

.-.-.-.

 

Steve smiled and handed Tony a green smoothie. “How was your class?”

 

“I mastered the ‘[transition up pole](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fpoledancedictionary.com%2Fmoves%2F259%2Ftransition-up-pole%2F&t=MzZkYjE4NTEzOWFlNjE0YjNhYjhjZmQ0NGQxYWE4NWViNTExMGEwZixKWWNPRFJETA%3D%3D&b=t%3Ao73gbl5zrbF_OPdtsA4l1Q&p=https%3A%2F%2Freioka.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161308395920%2Fwinteriron-neighbours-au-bucky-is-28-or-29-and&m=1)’ and the ‘[bridged outside leg hang](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fpoledancedictionary.com%2Fmoves%2F308%2Fbridged-outside-leg-hang%2F&t=ZmM3NTZkYmZmZDAyNDQzMWZjNzI0MDk0OGVmOGFlYzhkZGJjZTg0NyxKWWNPRFJETA%3D%3D&b=t%3Ao73gbl5zrbF_OPdtsA4l1Q&p=https%3A%2F%2Freioka.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161308395920%2Fwinteriron-neighbours-au-bucky-is-28-or-29-and&m=1)!’” Tony replied proudly. “Ooh, thank you. Extra carrots?”

 

“Of course. I have no idea what either of those things is but I’m pleased for you, Tony.” He took a swig from his water bottle. “So, how’s your new place? Sorry I couldn’t help you m—”

 

“I live next door to a serial killer,” Tony answered immediately.

 

“—ove your stuff what the fuck Tony!?”

 

Tony turned toward him, wild-eyed. “Okay I’m not fucking around, alright? I’m not. I’m actually concerned.”

 

Steve gaped at him. “I—I never said you were fucking around? Honestly, what—”

 

“He always comes home with blood on his hands,” Tony explained. “I’m surprised there’s any white left on that rag he calls a towel! I sent Pepper a picture but he saw me take it because of my stupid flash and I panicked and told him I took it to prove he was sexy. I was terrified.”

 

“That’s… intrusive, Tony,” Steve began awkwardly.

 

“Oh my God Steve he’s a serial killer at least now Pepper has a picture to give to the police if I disappear. I hope they glare at her when they see she only texted me ‘lol.’ Oh! He comes and goes at weird hours too so I don’t think he has a job? Or—oh my God maybe he’s an assassin. He’s a serial killer and  _he gets paid for it._  It’s all so clear now. I’m a famous figure! It’s only a matter of time before someone pays him to take me out, Steve!”

 

Steve’s hands fluttered helplessly. “Tony, he’s not! Your parents wouldn’t let you move into a building with a suspected serial killer!”

 

“I chose my own apartment building!” Tony told him loudly, because so many people assumed that his parents had put him up there. He had a job, and he used the money from that job to pay rent, and he chose his apartment, but whatever, apparently he was riding Mommy and Daddy’s coattails still even at twenty-four years old. “Mom and Dad had nothing to do with it!”

 

“Of course they didn’t!” Steve said immediately.

 

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “…What do you know that I don’t, Steve?”

 

Steve smiled that strained ‘I’m lying and I wish I’d listened when Natasha insisted she could teach me to keep my face from saying it’ smile. “Oh, I don’t know, Tony. There can’t be much that I know that you don’t—”

 

“You’re flattering me!” Tony gasped, offended. “Even without that smile I know you’re lying!” He looked at his smoothie, betrayed. “Is the smoothie a lie, too, Steve? Is there no extra carrot?”

 

Steve sputtered. “Tony-! Of course there’s extra carrot! Kamala made it and she adores you so much she memorized your order.”

 

“At least Kamala trusts me enough not to keep secrets!” Tony exclaimed, hurt.

 

“Oh my God,” Steve groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Okay, Howard did a background check on literally everyone in the building.” Tony gasped with betrayal. “He did it because he  _cares,_  Tony!”

 

“I just wanted to do this one thing by myself,” Tony said, honestly hurt. “I’m gonna have Murder Guy kill me on purpose.  _I’ll_  pay him.”

 

“Oh my God,” Steve said again, quieter, but with the same amount of exasperation. “Listen, your mom didn’t stop him. Clearly he wasn’t the only one worried.”

 

Tony handed the smoothie back to him. “Take this. It’s tainted. With  _duplicity._ ”

 

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Your parents care about you. I would trade  _anything_  to have that back—”

 

“No,” Tony told him shortly. “You’re trying to manipulate me. I’m leaving.”

 

“I’m not-! Tony!” Steve called out, and took a few steps after him, but Tony had always been wonderful at fleeing.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Tony knocked on Murder Guy’s door.

 

Murder Guy opened the door and looked very confused but still as angry as he always did.

 

“How much do you charge?”

 

“I-?” Murder Guy frowned. “For what?”

 

Tony scowled at him. “For murder. Come on, don’t play the fool. I need to be quick about this. Steve will sick Natasha on me because I’m slippery like an eel.”

 

Murder Guy gaped at him. It was the least angry expression Tony had ever seen on him. “I wasn’t—Jesus Christ I thought you were calling me a prostitute.” Murder Guy frowned, still confused. “Not—not that this is much better?”

 

“I apologize,” Tony told him. He pulled out his checkbook. “But seriously, how much do you charge per murder? I want to be dead. A million? Two? If you wait for my next paycheck to clear I can make it four.”

 

Murder Guy was beginning to look uncomfortable.

 

“Five then,” Tony offered.

 

“I’m going to close the door now,” Murder Guy said, and did so quickly enough that Tony couldn’t say ‘wait no.’

 

Tony stood up straight, scowling at the door. “What, my money isn’t good enough because I want you to kill  _me_? There’s no sport in it? Well let me tell you, buddy, I can make it good for you! I’ll put up all the fight you want!”

 

“Tony,” Bruce said tiredly, coming up the stairs. “Why are you harassing your neighbor?”

 

Tony turned toward him. “I thought I was doing something all on my own but I didn’t and this just proves that I’m never ever going to be able to do something purely by myself.”

 

Bruce frowned, because he hadn’t actually expected a serious answer. “That sucks. I have beer.”

 

Tony pointed at him. “You’re right! I could always drink myself to death!”

 

“No.”

 

“Fine. Well, at least Natasha won’t think to look for me at your place.” Tony turned back to Murder Guy’s door. “Hey, if you decide you’d rather take the job, you know where I live!”

 

Bruce grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. “Oh my God, cut it out!”

 

.-.-.-.

 

Tony heard a knock on his door and thought it was a shame he hadn’t died. His head was throbbing, like an elephant was keeping tempo on his skull. Still, Bruce had at least hidden him when Natasha had come by, pounding angrily on Tony’s door. He had probably seven hours to leave town before Natasha got really mad and decided to track him down to beat him soundly about the head while snarling about how she loved him but he was a fucking idiot.

 

Tony opened the door and was too relieved to feel scared. “Have you decided to put me out of my misery?”

 

Murder Guy frowned at him, managing to look awkward and angry at the same time. “I just came over to see if you were okay.”

 

“Oh,” Tony said, disappointed. “Well, I have a hangover and my life is in shambles, but I guess I am… not terrible.”

 

Murder Guy looked at him incredulously. “You came over and asked me to kill you for money last night and you don’t call that terrible?”

 

“I mean that’s what you do, right?” Tony asked, confused. “That’s your job? I mean maybe you’re impotent and can only get off by killing people too, but I’m not gonna judge you for making money from your passion—”

 

“I DON’T FUCKING KILL PEOPLE,” Murder Guy said loudly.

 

Tony made confused noises and waved his hands at him. “You come and go at odd hours? Your left hand always has blood on it? You always look like you’re angry? Or—Oh,” he said, stricken. “Oh. You just don’t like  _me._  That’s why Bruce and Clint and Mrs. Martin say you’re not a serial killer. Because you like them.”

 

Murder Guy looked horrified. “Why is that your conclusion? Are you—should you be alone right now?”

 

“That’s part of the reason I was asking you to kill me,” Tony explained slowly. “I don’t want to see anybody ever again.”

 

“My therapist says that’s not healthy.” Murder Guy looked like it hurt him to say. “Listen, I’m not—I’m not an assassin or whatever. I just—have this face. ‘s not like I enjoy mean-muggin’ people. And it’s not that I don’t like you, you’re just… new. I don’t like new people. I hafta get used to ‘em. And you’re…” He held up his right hand, searching for a word.

 

“…Annoying?” Tony offered after a moment.

 

“No!” Murder Guy shouted. “God. I was gonna say… a lot.”

 

Tony frowned. “That’s just a polite way of saying annoying.”

 

Murder Guy glared at him. “No it’s not!” He took a deep breath. “…Listen. You just seemed… _upset_  yesterday. An’ I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“I’m—”  _Fine,_  was what Tony was going to say. But Murder Guy’s brows furrowed together and he looked…  _concerned._  “I thought I was finally doing something on my own, but my parents had a hand in it anyway.”

 

“…You wanna talk about it?” Murder Guy asked, face saying ‘I will listen’ and posture saying ‘please oh God don’t.’

 

Tony rocked back and forth in the doorway for a few minutes, thinking Murder Guy might make a decision for him by getting impatient and leaving, but he just stood there, waiting. Murder Guy had… really kind eyes when he wasn’t scowling. Tony finally took a step back to open the door wider. “You might wanna sit down.”

 

“Okay but something is coming toward me and I am somewhat terrified,” Murder Guy said, taking a step backward.

 

Tony turned, then rolled his eyes and lightly kicked Dum-E’s chassis. “Don’t be afraid of this guy, he’s an idiot. Aren’t you?” Dum-E beeped cheerfully and spun in a circle.

 

Murder Guy’s lips curled into a reluctant smile.

 

“But don’t accept any drinks from him because he doesn’t understand that humans can’t ingest motor oil,” Tony added seriously.

 

Murder Guy’s laugh was really nice, too.

 

.-.-.-.

 

“That sucks,” Bucky said seriously around a mouthful of chocolate donut. “Come t’ think of it, I  _do_  remember someone coming by and askin’ really nosy questions.” He frowned. “Huh. That actually explains a lot.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said, picking at a loose string on his sweatpants. “I thought—They never really let me do anything on my own, you know? They thought they were helping. And maybe they were. But I’m not going to learn if I’m not allowed to make my own mistakes. I’m twenty-four years old. I should be allowed to do things myself. Even if it means I’ll fail.”

 

Bucky nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get that. Still don’t think you should go around offerin’ to pay people to murder you.”

 

“Yeah, that was pretty bad,” Tony admitted quietly.

 

“Also can’t believe you thought I was a serial killer an’ then  _kept_  livin’ next to me.”

 

Tony blushed a little. “Mom said you’d have to deal with her if you killed me and I thought that was actually a pretty good deterrent.”

 

Bucky squinted thoughtfully and grabbed another donut. “Nah, I feel ya. ‘f I had a kid as cute as you and I thought somebody hurt ‘em, I’d actually be Murder Guy because I’d kill ‘em.”

 

“…You think I’m cute?” Tony asked after a moment.

 

Bucky shrugged. “Sure. Always have. ‘s part of the reason I look angry when I see you. My friend likes t’ think of it as my emotional constipation showin’ up on my face.”

 

Tony giggled against his will.

 

“But I’m a mess,” Bucky continued. “’nd ‘m in no place t’ act on it anyway. For what it’s worth, I don’t think your friend was tryin’a manipulate you. I mean it’s really shitty t’ bring up that your mom’s dead when someone is complainin’ about how their parents hurt them but I don’t think he meant any harm.”

 

“Yeah, probably not,” Tony agreed quietly. “I just—he’s always on my dad’s side. Makes me wonder if he thinks I can’t do anything by myself either. I mean, they let me move in here. I obviously made a good choice. So why couldn’t they just keep out of it to begin with?”

 

Bucky patted him on the shoulder. “Couldn’t tell ya. But listen, if ya need someone to listen to ya and I’m in a place I can, you can come over anytime.”

 

“Thanks, Bucky,” Tony said touched. “I just have one question.”

 

“I like donuts,” Bucky told him defensively, already holding another one.

 

“It’s not about that.”

 

“Oh. Ask away, I guess.”

 

“Why if your left hand always bleeding?”

 

Bucky turned to look at him in confusion. “…What?”

 

“You’ve always got that towel wrapped around your left hand when you come home late at night,” Tony explained. “’s why I thought you were a serial killer—your left hand’s always bleeding.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said, glancing at his left hand. He stuck the remains of the donut in his mouth and used his right hand to pull his sleeve up, showing off his metal hand. “’s not blood; ’s coolant. Starts leakin’ at the end of the day.”

 

“Ew,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose. He didn’t notice the way Bucky’s face started to shut down. “Is that  _Hammer Tech?_  No wonder it leaks.  _Give it to me._ ”

 

“What the fuck an’ you’re the one that thought  _I_  was a serial killer?!” Bucky sputtered, spitting crumbs everywhere, as he tried to scramble away.

 

.-.-.-.

 

“So you remember that serial killer I was telling you about?”

 

Maria paused in fussing with her son’s tie. “…Vaguely.”

 

“Murder Guy.”

 

“Oh!” She nodded, returning to fussing. “Yes. What about him?”

 

“He’s an army vet whose arm got blown off on his first tour and has Resting Bitch Face.”

 

“Unfortunate,” Maria said.

 

Tony nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Anyway! He’s super smart and sweet and I’m gonna marry him.”

 

“Congratulations, honey.” She smoothed his collar down over the tie. “Does  _he_  know that?”

 

“No, he says he’s not in a good place to date. But I can wait. He’s a good listener.” Tony pushed her hands away. “ _Mom._  I can dress myself.”

 

Maria frowned at him severely.

 

Tony sagged in front of her and let her fuss, because that picture of him in the gold booty shorts and crop top still floated around every summer.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Natasha knew Bucky.

 

“Why didn’t you tell him I wasn’t a serial killer!?” Bucky exclaimed angrily.

 

Natasha shrugged. “It amused me.” She caught Tony around the waist and dragged him onto her lap, making him yelp and struggle not to spill his smoothie. “Also I’m still mad at you for eating my last pineapple yogurt.” She hooked a finger around Tony’s wrist and brought his smoothie to her mouth to take a long, obnoxious slurp.

 

Bucky’s eye twitched.

 

“Yuck, who eats pineapple yogurt anyway, you’re both gross,” Tony complained, squirming into a more comfortable position. He took his own, less obnoxious drink of smoothie.

 

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “So how’s your pole dancing class going?”

 

Bucky choked on his water.

 

“Oh, you know,” Tony said, shrugging. “I only fell once this last time. Greer is still a slave-driver.”

 

Natasha snorted. “There’s a reason we call her ‘Tigra’ and it’s only partly because she’s got the spine of a cat.” She smirked at Bucky smugly. “Maybe you could give me a demonstration sometime?”

 

Tony smiled at her. “Yeah, I could do that!”

 

Bucky’s glass shattered in his hand.

 

Tony gasped. “Oh my—Bucky, are you okay!?”

 

“’s fine, it was my metal hand.” Bucky allowed Tony to fuss over him, though, waiting until Tony hustled to grab the vacuum to stick his tongue out Natasha.

 

Natasha remained unimpressed. She usually was, though. “I’m gonna ask him to dinner.”

 

“Hey, Tony, you wanna grab pizza later?!” Bucky exclaimed.

 

Tony turned from trying to tug the vacuum away from Dum-E. “Huh? Yeah, okay.”

 

“HA!” Bucky said, pointing at Natasha. “And fuck you and your pineapple yogurt.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes and mumbled ‘into the palm of my hand’ in Russian. Bucky narrowed his eyes at her.

 

“Fine!” Tony exclaimed, frustrated. “Just be careful! Bucky’s a person!”

 

Dum-E beeped an affirmative and rolled over to begin carefully vacuuming up the glass.

 

.-.-.-.

 

“You—you thought  _Bucky_  was a serial killer?” Steve sputtered.

 

Bucky scowled at him, appalled. “What, you think I couldn’t be a serial killer? You think I couldn’t go out every night and kill someone? Guess what asshole you’re gonna be my first victim.”

 

“Bucky’s a lamb.”

 

Bucky began to stand. Tony wrapped his arms around the older man and tugged him back down into the booth. “Bucky, no!”

 

“I can’t believe this,” Steve began, then gasped. “The loud little cutie! You’ve been talking about Tony this whole time!”

 

“Don’t take out your phone,” Bucky snapped, even as the blond did that very thing. “’m sorry, who’s always bitchin’ ‘bout people usin’ their phones—”

 

“I have unwittingly been a witness the world’s greatest comedy of errors and I need to tell  _everyone._ ”

 

Tony turned to give Steve an unimpressed look, letting go of Bucky. “Bucky, yes.”

 

“I’m actually good at texting you can’t kill me before I get this mass text sent!” Steve exclaimed, lunging out of his seat, still tap-tap-tapping away at his phone. He let out a frightened noise and ran for the door as Bucky also lunged out of the booth. “Sam and Sharon will avenge me!”

 

Tony crossed his arms and pouted a little as his boyfriend chased Steve out of the restaurant.

 

The waitress stopped at his table, frowning sympathetically. “Oh, honey. Did your date just ditch you?”

 

“ _Yes._  Can I have a chocolate milkshake, please?”

 

She brought him a chocolate milkshake as big as his head. He Snapchatted it to Pepper and Natasha along with the message ‘My boyfriend ditched me to commit murder :(’ and sat in the booth, sipping and scowling, until Steve and Bucky came scuttling back, shame-faced. Neither of them would say what Natasha had texted them but they both sort of shivered when he asked.

 

.-.-.-.

 

“And just when were you planning to tell us that you’ve moved in with a boyfriend we’ve never met?” Maria asked, expression severe.

 

Tony didn’t look up from fixing one of Dum-E’s struts. “I don’t know. When were you planning to tell me that you’d done background checks on literally everyone in my apartment building without my knowledge?”

 

Maria tried to keep her stern expression, but gave up. Steve had been telling Howard just the other day how much that had hurt Tony. “That’s fair.”

 

“Besides!” Tony added, waving his wrench. “You did technically meet him when you were canvassing my neighbors.”

 

“Well,” Maria said after a moment. “I suppose. I hope to meet him for real someday.”

 

Tony finally turned to smile at her. “You will. I’m just letting Steve sweat. I guess he didn’t mean to add Dad in that group text, so he’s in some hot water now instead of me!”

 

Maria couldn’t help a snort. Dear lord, her child was petty. She loved him that way, though.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why Bucky's like "I'm not ready to date" and then "NATASHA CAN'T HAVE HIM HE'S MINE" it's because his therapist actually thinks IS ready for a relationship but it's Bucky that's afraid to take that next step (mostly because of his constantly leaking arm but for other reasons too).


End file.
